Sylar's Pet
by bluecellphone
Summary: A bit of Mylar! Sorry for typos....


Sylar's Pet

Mohinder writhed in his bed sheets, attempting to envelope himself in the cotton warmth. There was an ice-cold breeze coming through the cracked window. It tickled his nose and slowly forced his heavy eyelids open as his glistening curls danced lightly with the passing of each gust. He shivered.

It took him several minutes to remember where he was; to realize why he couldn't move his arms or legs. He remembered the night before, so full of passion and heat, warm enough to have gone to sleep in underwear, with just a thin cotton sheet covering him and the icy winter poking though the window. He remembered sweating intensely before falling asleep.

Now alert, he tugged at the silver cuffs, ice cold on his skin. They were not budging, but they left small indentations in the wooded headboard. His ankles burned and old bleeding rashes reopened where the rope met his skin, as they did every morning.

He let out a small happy sigh at the thought of his situation. Things had been this way for over a week now. But while his body felt uncomfortable, his heart was at peace. He was safe. Sylar would never hurt him…emotionally anyways.

His body shuddered violently as another cold breeze crept across the bed. He wiggled as much as he could to try and cover his skin with the blankets.

Suddenly the wooden door to the room flew open. Startled, Mohinder jumped sending what was left of the sheet plummeting to the floor. There he lay, in nothing but plaid boxer shorts, trembling in fear and cold.

Pausing to view his possession, Sylar smirked. He blinked once, slowly, heavily, as if in a state of euphoria from seeing his Mohinder. He cocked his head to the right and his smirk grew to a full smile. Mohinder shuffled a bit on the bed, eyes wide, with a gulp. He wasn't really afraid of Sylar, but he knew his possessor liked him to be fearful. In reality, Mohinder's heart was pounding with passion. Swallowing his smiles, he fought hard not to show happiness. If he did it would ruin everything. It would put out the fire that fueled their game.

Sylar stalked towards the bed, sitting on the edge, and Mohinder shifted away from him. Being so close to Sylar made his heart race. He let his body slide slowly into the gravitational pull of the other man's hip, sinking into the bed.

Reaching out for Mohinder's curls, Sylar pulled on one and then let it go, watching it spring back into place.

"Sleep well?" his deep voice questioned, eyes looking bottomless. Mohinder swallowed and gave a shaky head nod.

"Good." A smile crept over his possessor's face. His eyes narrowed as they traced Mohinder's body, studying the golden brown goose bumps covering his entire shell. He lightly hovered his fingertips down Mohinder's chest, down his stomach, causing him to let out a small gasp. Lowering his brow to stare into Mohinder's dark eyes, Sylar curled the left corner of his mouth up in sheer joy. One tap of his finger caused the cracked window to slam shut, which made Mohinder jump and turn his head.

"Better?" he questioned, eyes fixed on Mohinder who nodded again.

Suddenly his nose caught something very sweet coming from the kitchen. Coffee.

_Sylar was making coffee? _

_But he doesn't like coffee._

"We had a visitor earlier," Sylar remarked, getting up to retrieve Mohinder's clothes from a scattered mess on the floor. He instantly had a flashback of the previous night; excited hands violently ripping away his outfit with gritted teeth and eyes brimming with dark passion.

"Who?" he asked meekly, shaking his head a little to remove the images playing in sequence.

"A detective. I had to force down some coffee. Try to be…you know…_normal_." He squinted in disgust as he said the word. Being normal was a fate worse than death for this man.

He spun around to face Mohinder.

"He was looking for _you_." Panic shot through his heart at the thought of someone finding him. No more pleasure, no more pain, no more stolen nights. He knew it was wrong, but it made him feel so right.

"Luckily you were still sleeping." Sylar began to untie him. First his feet, being careful not to agitate the wounds. He carefully pulled wrinkled blue jeans onto caramel colored legs, sliding them up Mohinder's hips and fastening them. He wasn't moving much; too much pain from having been tied down for such a long time. He winced at the slightest movement. He knew Sylar enjoyed every little moan that escaped his mouth, whether it be pain or pleasure.

"Puh…people are wondering where I am?" Mohinder questioned through a pained face. Sylar let out a small huff of a laugh.

"Doesn't it make you feel special?" he asked while massaging Mohinder's sore legs. He didn't reply to Sylar, knowing it might open a floodgate of emotions about the past; about Sylar's quest to be special.

Due to lack of response from his toy, Sylar grabbed his face, pressing his thumb into Mohinder's chin.

"Don't worry," he breathed. "You're safe. Here with me to stay."

Mohinder's heart fluttered.

_Safe._

For some reason this word sent Mohinder into a non-sexual orgasm. His entire body felt hot in a wave of tingling sensation that started at his ears and worked its way down to his toes.

"Huh," Sylar grunted, still holding Mohinder's chin. He tilted Mohinder's head from left to right, examining the man's jaw line.

"Somebody needs a shave." Sylar smirked, gently caressing Mohinder's stubble with the back of his fingers. He breathed in deep at the sensation and the two men were instantly lost in each other. One felt completely loved and safe while the other felt completely in control and passionate about his possession.

Mohinder's goose bumps remained as Sylar released him from his handcuffs and leaned him over his shoulder to keep dressing him. The warm clothes did nothing to relieve him of his shivers as he could still feel the ghost sensation of Sylar's soft fingers on his rough cheek.

He sat, slouched in Sylar's arms in a peaceful moment, as his shirt was smoothed onto his body. His chin rested on the nape of Sylar's neck. He breathed in, deeply, smelling the air around his possessor. He was quiet. Still. Almost frozen on the outside. But on the inside, he was screaming as his mind raced with giddy thoughts.

"There." Sylar's deep voice vibrated through his throat. Not only could Mohinder feel his raspy words on his neck, but he could feel Sylar's warm breath on his skin.

He pushed Mohinder gently away from his chest and, holding the weak man's shoulders for stability, kissed him gently. Mohinder tried to pull back as the rules of this psychological game would have him do, but Sylar's firm grip latched on even tighter. Mohinder placed the palms of his shaking hands onto Sylar's chest for the illusion of added struggle. In reality he simply wanted to feel his captures heartbeat.

Sylar breathed out heavily through his nose for the last few moments of the kiss, and the warm air streamed down Mohinder's face. He felt weak, almost nauseated, and nearly collapsed at the feeling. Sylar's grip tightened more as he felt Mohinder sinking away. With an over exaggerated smack, they pulled apart, leaving Mohinder panting with a bowed head. He licked his lips quickly to get one last taste as Sylar stood up from his position on the bed.

"Now," Sylar raised an eyebrow. "How about that shave?"

Mohinder raised his head so that his gaze could meet Sylar's, only a moment later dropping his head again with a whimper. He took a deep, shaky breath in to prepare himself. Tugging on Sylar's black shirt for assistance, he slowly stood up. His knees were wobbly, his thighs ached. This was no show to make himself look weak; he was very physically tired.

"Am I working you too hard?" Sylar laughed, as Mohinder clung to his shoulders . He began tearing up at the inability to perform such a simple physical task and for a brief moment he allowed himself to think:

_Why am I doing this to myself?_

_Why am I letting him hurt me?_

His questions were immediately washed away as Sylar wrapped Mohinder's arm around his neck, and folded an arm of his own around Mohinder's waist.

_Because I like it._

_Because he loves me._

He assured himself.

Sylar lead him wobbling into the bathroom, where he leaned him against the sink counter, waiting patiently as Mohinder meekly climbed up and sat with his legs dangling over the edge. He laid his head back on the wall and sat with his wrists facing up to let air get to his agitated wounds. His watery eyes followed Sylar around the bathroom as he gathered shaving supplies. He was on the verge of screaming from the amount of ache.

With a deep breath in and out, Sylar flung a towel over his shoulder for easy access.

"Ready?" he raised his eyebrows, showing Mohinder the long shaving blade.

"Do I have a choice?" Mohinder huffed out. He melted inside at the fiery smirk his remark put on Sylar's face. He allowed a few small tears to escape his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Sylar took notice, and wiped them away with the pad of his thumb before painting Mohinder's cheeks, jaw and neck with a thin layer of shaving cream.

"What am I to do if you start painting the future on my face?" Mohinder jabbed.

Smirking and glancing at the long razor, Sylar replied, "Run. That tends to get messy." He stepped closer, pressing his leg between Mohinder's knees as if to get a closer look at his task at hand. He began long, slow strokes across Mohinder's cheek with the razor. The scraping sound on stubbly skin made the moment feel awkward for him, as he studied Sylar's intensely focused face. He was paying so much attention to Mohinder; being so careful not to cut him. Mohinder stared into Sylar's dark eyes that were fixated on his own jaw. The only other time he had ever seen Sylar so focused was when he was watching him fix something. His heart swelled as he began to feel as special as one of Sylar's clocks.

When he was finished, he wiped any remaining shaving cream away with his towel, then examined his work with a smile by running his fingers down Mohinder's face, across his chin, and back up the other side. Goosebumps once again haunted Mohinder's flesh at the sensation of Sylar's touch. He stepped back to examine his work like he would with one of his paintings. Hands folded across his chest, he smiled big and said,

"There." Mohinder didn't respond with a smile. No. That is against the rules. Instead he shifted on the uncomfortable counter he had been lead to. Sylar unfolded his arms and taking a step towards Mohinder asked,

"Doesn't that feel better?" Mohinder nodded in agreement as he slid off the counter, as if trying to escape from the approaching predator. He turned towards the door, holding onto the wall for balance, and just as he started on his escape, he was cut off harshly.

Sylar pushed him backwards into the adjacent wall with such force that a moan escaped his lips. Just as angrily, he pinned Mohinder, holding his aching wrists against the wall and pressing their hips together. Gritting his teeth he rubbed Mohinder's cheek with his own to feel the work he has just done.

"Much better," Sylar grunted into Mohinder's ear, scraping his baby soft cheek with his overgrown stubble.

He stepped back, but was using his abilities to keep Mohinder glued to the wall, panting helplessly. He began to wonder what small things could set this man off so easily. Mohinder longed for the moments when this man would switch from Gabriel to Sylar in an instant. That confusing swing of caring love to passionate possession was what made Mohinder's heart blaze with fire.

With a flick of his index finger, Sylar let Mohinder fall to the floor. He landed with a thud and struggled to regain his feet. As a calm spread across Sylar's face, he bent over to pick up his disheveled pet, balancing him and then stroking his curls as if to say sorry.

He chuckled deep at his weak friend and snarled as Mohinder's wet eyes stared up at him, quivering. Almost immediately Mohinder was being dragged into the living room, past the kitchen, and back into the bedroom where his day had began. He was half walking, half crawling, being held up by Sylar as they made their way to the bed.

"Sylar, stop!" he yelped, as the door to the bedroom flew shut by an unseen force. Sylar was breathing heavier now in anticipation, and each exhale made Mohinder's heart beat faster.

Sylar didn't even pause at the foot of the bed like he usually did.

"Wuh…wait!" Mohinder begged, as he was shoved backwards onto the messy sheets, his hands desperately trying to grab onto Sylar to prevent the fall.

There he lay, sprawled out, eyes as wide as they could go. He was playing scared but he knew what was coming. He froze in anticipation and watched as Sylar's chest puffed and relaxed, a docile smile slowly bending the corners of his mouth. Was it Gabriel coming through?

This was Mohinder's favorite part.

The man, presumably Gabriel, crept forward slowly like a cat. On hands and knees above Mohinder's shaking form, he hovered for a moment, the two men breathing deeply into each other.

Leaning down, Sylar kissed him gently, sensually, carefully. Touching his lips to Mohinder's as if they were both made of glass. His breathing was steady and the room calm with dead silence. Mohinder let out a small breath as Sylar kissed his chin, his jaw, his neck, touching so lightly that it felt like it was coming from an angel. He twitched slightly as his ear was licked by a warm tongue, followed by gentle teeth nibbling on his neck like he was a delicacy.

_You're not supposed to like this._

He reminded himself of the unspoken game.

_Push him away!_

"Stop," he breathed, squirming backwards until his hair brushed the headboard. Sylar was now positioned just over Mohinder's stomach. He lifted the scared geneticist's shirt just enough to reveal a caramel colored belly button. Raising an eyebrow while keeping his eyes locked onto Mohinder's, he drew a circle around the quivering stomach with his tongue. Mohinder nearly collapsed at the sensation shooting down his legs, up his spine, and through his fingertips. Leaning back on his elbows, he breathed heavier as Sylar crawled over him so that the two men were face to face once again.

"You're mine," he growled, grabbing the back of Mohinder's head, grasping as many curls as he could.

"My pet."

_This is Sylar._

A forceful mouth kissed him hard, not soft like the other personality had. Mohinder squirmed beneath the taller, more powerful man, as his clothes were quickly ripped away from his body like the night before. He winced as strong hands pinned his flailing arms down at the wrists. Mohinder realized he was now in his boxers, as a ravenous Sylar kissed down his bare neck and chest. Arching his back as lips reached his stomach, he was still being held down by pale, forceful hands.

Sylar's stubble tickled his skin, almost making Mohinder laugh as a stray thought entered his mind…

_Sylar needs a shave._

He was quickly snapped away from the thought as he was spun over onto his stomach. What followed was a mixture of pleasure and pain - just like Mohinder liked it.

Sylar was rough, forcing himself in. Mohinder, white knuckled, prayed for a switch to gentle Gabriel. Moments later as everything slowed, he wanted Sylar back. Why did he like to hurt himself like this?

The steady motion calmed him and he realized they were taking deep breaths in unison. They were one. Mohinder felt Sylar's warm hand on his back, followed by digging nails. Harder, faster.

_Why couldn't Sylar make up his mind?_

_Who does he want to be?_

Mohinder hoped he would never choose.

The sensations and emotions pumping through his body were amazing. Love, hate, fear, pleasure, pain, all colliding in his veins. It felt as though lava was running inside him. His limbs were tingling and his hands grasped the bed sheets below him so tightly that his fingers started going numb. He could feel the warm trickle of blood down his back, down his side, were Sylar had dug into his skin.

His body was tired again, collapsing onto the bed when everything was over. On his stomach, panting in physical and mental exhaustion, Sylar leaned into his ear and whispered,

"You're special," In warm breath. Mohinder smiled.

His tired body was pulled onto Sylar's, laying a head of curls on his chest. They laid together, quiet, still. Mohinder listened to Sylar's heart, nearly dozing off to the rhythmic sound. He was kissed gently on the forehead.

_Gabriel._

After a brief pause, Sylar broke the silence.

"We'll need to get you some new clothes," he said, glaring at the ripped cotton on the floor.

"What's the point?" Mohinder weakly inquired. He felt the chest below his head tense in a chuckle.

"Ripping them off. That's the point," Sylar smirked. He couldn't see it, but Mohinder was smiling too. He always smiled when Sylar wasn't looking.


End file.
